The Queen with laughter loud her joy exprest,
And, strait, I saw the giddy Countess drest
In Infant's garb, and like an Infant smil'd;
The Parent now was sunk into the Child.
The rattle pleas'd it, and the painted toy;
Awhile the trifles charm, but soon they cloy.
Anon she cries,—for some new play distrest,
'Till Fetes Champetres hush it into rest.
Next B—— was seen, whose sprightly eye
Beam'd with the pertness of Vivacity.
To the gay shrine the wanton Fair proceeds,
And, smiling, offers up her Widow's weeds.
Here E——'s chaste vows, and proffer'd love,
With Hymeneal garlands interwove,
And injur'd D——'s unavailing sighs,
Together form an ample sacrifice.
Delighted Folly wav'd her pow'rful wand!
A sprightly figure came at her command;
Its face of Gallic mould and sallow hue.
And o'er his shoulder hung the Cordon Bleu.
Up-rose the Queen.—"My favourite Prince, she cried,
To me and to my House so near allied,
To you I shall resign no common care:
Beneath your wing I place a favourite Fair.
Regardless of her Children's growing years,
Deaf to their prattle, heedless of their tears;
Tir'd of her native land, and pleasant home,
On foreign shores she languishes to roam;
In foreign Courts to play coquettish arts,
And dart her lightnings into foreign hearts.
Yours is the Court where she would wish to shine;
And where's the heart so soon inflam'd as thine?"
She spoke.—They heard their Mistress with delight;
When, in a cloud, she veil'd them from my sight.
The painted A——, who appear'd once more,
To do what she'd so often done before,
Approach'd the Altar, to deposite there
Each thought, each action of the finish'd year.
Alone the Lady came,—alone return'd;
None joy'd her presence,—none her absence mourn'd.
Next M—— came, whose pleasing looks disclose
Charms which must soften her severest foes.
Plac'd by her hand upon the Altar, lie
Each single Item of Oeconomy;
While her good, easy Lord the rite survey'd,
And ratified the sacrifice she made.
Tho' small the Offering seem'd, in truth, 'twas great;
It was the Fragment of his vast Estate.
E'en Folly saw their gay career must end,
But, for their duties past, now prov'd their friend;
And gave a Book that teaches the repair
Of ruin'd Fortunes in a foreign Air.
But now advanc'd a melancholy Train:—
In plaintive notes the breathing flutes complain.
And lo! the sorrowing D—— then succeeds,
In all the mournful pomp of Widows' weeds.
I heard her loud lament and bitter moan,
Not for a Husband, but a Title gone.
Close by her side I saw the illustrious Dame
Whom Wits the Modern Messalina name;
Who whisper'd comfort to the mourning Fair,
And told of joys which blooming Widows share;
Whose easy life no haughty ruler knows;
Who, when th' awaken'd passion wanton grows,
May, where her fancy leads, allay the flame,
Nor fear a husband's threats or ruin'd fame.
'Twas thus the Beldame counsel'd; nor in vain
Did she pour forth th' admonitory strain.
The weeping Fair before the Altar stood,
In all the dignity of Widowhood.
First, from her eyes she wip'd away the tears;
And then the solemn offering prepares.
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